


Ghost

by Fleurete



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Growing Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurete/pseuds/Fleurete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorey meets him on a cool winter day when frost laces the windows and the trees. </p>
<p>From then on, they watch the seasons change together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost

Sorey isn’t too sure when Mikleo first came into his life.

His earliest memories have long since faded into shades of blue, aquamarine spotted with silver. What remains are clear and distinct images marked by purple eyes and thin lips, eyelids fluttering as Mikleo would close his eyes and lose himself to sleep.

He remembers trying to grip a small crayon in a chubby hand. With his tongue sticking out in concentration and legs swinging back and forth, he blinks when a finger that does not belong to him points to the corner of the paper he is drawing on. A voice speaks from across the table. “The sun is yellow, not green. And grass isn’t orange either.”

Sorey looks up to see a boy with hair the same colour as the ice coating the branches of the huge cherry tree in the backyard. He was standing underneath it just yesterday, watching in awe the sunlight shining through the crystals.

The boy takes another sheet of paper and starts drawing as he says, “Pass me the red one, please.”

Even as a kid, Sorey thinks it is strange how the boy’s presence seems to relax him. It is strange because Sorey thinks this is the first time he’s met him, yet he responds with little hesitation.

“Okay, Mikleo.”

-

For the rest of his childhood, Sorey is never completely alone.

The amount of people his age in the neighbourhood is sparse, and so Sorey is more than happy to play hide and seek with his new friend, to peruse thick books filled with pictures of ornate stone columns from proud Ephesus and devastated ruins of solemn Pompeii. It is almost like having a sibling that looks nothing like him, because as much as his hair reminds him of the delicious chocolate in the storefronts in the next town over, he thinks Mikleo’s shade of pale turquoise is much more beautiful.

The day soon comes for them to start school and Sorey is nearly quivering with excitement. He gets dressed without his grandfather’s help and heads downstairs to eat breakfast, chattering with Mikleo all the while. Even though Mikleo matches Sorey’s enthusiasm, his voice shakes in places and Sorey does his best to distract him from the day ahead (“With all the pillows in the house we could make something as big as the Great Wall!”).

A plate filled with bacon and eggs is placed in front of Sorey as he takes a seat at the old mahogany dining table. He thanks his grandpa, then asks, “May I have another plate? Mikleo’s really hungry.”

The sounds of a cupboard door opening and closing break up the monotonous voice of the weather reporter floating from the battered television situated on the corner of the countertop. “Mikleo? Ah, I should’ve made more food.” His grandpa sets down the plate with a small smile and Sorey shovels most of his breakfast onto it. Mikleo says his thanks and starts digging in while Sorey replies, “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Sorey and Mikleo hold themselves together remarkably well until they watch Sorey’s grandfather descend the steps of the school. At the foot of the ominous red brick building, their enthusiasm slowly flags to be replaced by a mounting nervousness that causes a stout lady with a friendly face to stoop down and quickly usher them inside.

The hallways are plastered with Impressionist drawings of rainbows and animals rendered in scribbled crayon. Frazzled employees rush in and out of rooms as they do their best to pacify crying children. Mikleo nudges him in the side and apparently having gotten over his uneasiness, whispers, “Did you see the playground? They have five different slides!”

After fifteen minutes, the same woman who helped them in starts calling out each student. She makes it through her list without saying Mikleo’s name. Sorey and Mikleo look at each other.

Sorey raises his hand and blurts out, “Excuse me, you forgot about Mikleo!”

A tight smile forms on the woman’s face as she says, “Please wait for your name to be called, Sorey.” Her eyes drift to each side of Sorey  for a moment before she looks down and writes on her paper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see your friend there.”

Sorey watches Mikleo’s brow furrow but before either of them can say anything, the teacher starts leading the class in song.

-

Sorey has learned to keep Mikleo a secret.

He doesn’t want to, though. He thinks Mikleo is possibly the best friend he has ever had, willing to go along with all of his harebrained schemes despite his apparent reluctance, never one step behind or ahead but always a solid presence at his side. It is not only this that Sorey wishes he could tell people, but also the way his purple eyes shine almost like jewels in the dark of night, the skin of his hands that seems permanently soft.

He used to tell others. The last person he told was a classmate of his a year ago. She had given a look that he was by then familiar with. He wanted to explain _No, he’s right here don’t you see him? Look I can show you_ —until a hand touched his arm and a quiet voice said, “Sorey. It’s okay.”

But he didn’t think it was okay. That day marked their first big argument, filled with “Aren’t you angry?” and “Of course I am, but I don’t know what we can do about it.”

He tries thinking of it differently, that perhaps he is blessed for being able to see and talk to and be close to Mikleo. Even then, on some nights he wills himself to fade away and give whatever he has to the boy beside him. He is always disappointed when the next morning, his Grandfather says good morning to him.

Soon the beginning of high school rolls around. Sorey recognizes some of the kids in his homeroom class, but he picks a seat near the front and away from them. He opens his notebook and writes, “I think I saw a copy of that really old book in the library. The one we couldn’t find.” He can hear Mikleo’s steady breathing behind him as he leans in to read the note. Mikleo walks forward and sits up on Sorey’s desk, his legs dangling above the floor. “ _Ancient Ruins and Archaeology_? Let’s go during lunch!”

Sorey is in the middle of writing another message when he feels something poking his back. He turns around in his chair to see a girl with brown hair. She is twirling a pencil with one hand and resting her chin in the other.  “Class hasn’t even started yet and you’re taking notes? You should let me in on that sometime.”

 Sorey glances sideways at Mikleo (who is busy peering at her from his perch) before saying, “Sure.” He is about to leave it at that when he feels a nudge on his arm. He hastily continues, “If you give me some of that,” gesturing toward a small pile of snacks on her table. She seems to think on it before reaching her hand out. Sorey shakes it and she finishes the negotiation. “Deal. I’m Rose, by the way.” Sorey gives her his name and turns to the front of the class as the bell rings.

He writes in his notebook: “I’ll take the KitKat for you, but save it for later. I wince every time I see the chocolate fingerprints in _Pyramids & Tombs_.” Mikleo laughs, silent to everyone but Sorey.

-

Rose, as it turns out, becomes a permanent fixture in Sorey’s life.

They see each other every day after that, unsurprisingly. Soon Sorey learns that she has a cat with speckled fur, that she lives a block away from him, that she has a friend named Alisha who sits in front of him in Mathematics and is gunning for the honor roll.

It feels odd, having more friends (and ones that aren’t invisible to others). He can tell Mikleo thinks so too, his wary gaze doing little to dissuade Rose.

While he enjoys spending time with Rose, he finds himself hard pressed to talk about himself without mentioning Mikleo (no “Mikleo helped me out with that answer,” or “We used to play that as kids”). It is like he is leaving out half of his entire being when he says, “I came up with a theory about the Pyramids,” or “I explored this abandoned house near my place, but all I found were some broken tables.”

Rose introduces him to Alisha soon after. It is the night before a test, and Rose is surprisingly calm despite the fact that Sorey has never seen her crack open a book or hold a pen to paper. His suspicions are confirmed when she fails to answer each of Alisha’s practice questions. The rest of the night passes by in a series of stern lectures (given by Alisha) and hours of repetition and memorization of things like “Lady with an Ermine, 1490” and “the Renaissance, 14th to 17th century.”

There are only a few hours left until school when Rose passes out in her chair. Sorey has to fight to keep his eyes open and avoid having his head fall onto the table. He finds himself yearning for his bed and the comforting presence of someone beside him underneath the covers. He tries not to look at Alisha’s extremely large (and comfortable, he is sure) four-poster bed at the other end of the room.

The shuffling of papers catches his attention and he looks up to see Alisha, the only sign of her tiredness being the yawn causing her mouth to stretch open.  She smiles sheepishly once she notices him. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I’m sure you weren’t planning on staying up all night studying when Rose asked you to come over.”

Sorey returns the smile and waves away her words. “I’m just glad I could help.” He watches her as she moves about the room, too exhausted to do much else. Once she finishes cleaning up most of the clutter, she takes a cushion and shawl from an armchair in the corner and, carefully lifting Rose’s head, places the cushion underneath before the book her head is resting on becomes damp with drool. As Alisha drapes the shawl around Rose’s shoulders, she grins fondly. “This always happens. She depends on me to help her out and, well, I’m much too used to all-nighters anyway to refuse.”

Even as someone who doesn’t have an eye for this kind of thing (as Mikleo puts it), Sorey can see how close Rose and Alisha are, the intimacy between them. An overwhelming wave of emotion comes over him that he tries to quell almost immediately. To be able to speak of Mikleo like that, like someone he loves and cares for, like someone who _exists_ , is something he’d give anything for.

Sorey says, “It’s great that she has you, then.” He lets out an enormous yawn and stands up. “Tell Rose I’ll see her at school.” After saying goodbye to Alisha, he makes his way home in the early dawn to prepare for the rest of the day.

-

It happens one Saturday night in his room, with the small television standing on his drawers casting light on their faces.

After spending the afternoon finishing up a project with Rose, he breaks out his old game consoles and hooks them up to his ancient box of a television. He picks out an old favorite that Mikleo likes ( _Donkey Kong Country_ ) and passes a controller to Rose. They make themselves comfortable on the floor while Mikleo lies down on the bed, holding a book above him.

Daylight begins slipping away, and soon Sorey flips the light on in the darkened room. Rose groans as her character gets hit by a snake and the words “Game Over” pops up with accompanying sad music. She throws up her hands and flops down on the floor. “Jeez, how’d you get so good at this game? Don’t tell me you ditched me and Alisha just to get in some practice.”

Behind him, Sorey hears the sound of paper rustling as Mikleo drops his book, and the subsequent muffled “ouch.” Sorey tries to stop from smiling, but it apparently doesn’t work because Rose looks quizzically at him.

Sorey shakes his head and says, “It’s probably the years I spent glued to the television when I was younger.”

Rose stands up, gives a mock bow, and says “Show me your tricks, Master,” eliciting a laugh from Sorey. She continues, “I have to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” A moment later the door closes behind her.

With Rose gone, Mikleo sits up on the bed and says quietly, “You don’t need to leave them like that. You know I’m not going anywhere.” The second sentence almost like a question.

Sorey moves to sit beside Mikleo. He gives a reassuring smile and says, “Trust me, they’re fine without me.” He takes the book Mikleo had been reading earlier and thumbs through it. “Besides, didn’t you enjoy our discussion of Hunt and Lipo’s theories?”

Mikleo crosses his arms and his eyes light up. Just like that, his whole demeanor changes. “I see where they’re coming from, but their ideas aren’t foolproof. I’m rereading the passages you pointed out to me but they provide no evidence of that first expedition ever spreading disease to the locals in the first place.”

Sorey huffs and replies, “You’re focusing on a small part of their case. Their thoughts on the statues totally revolutionize earlier theories on the subject.”

Mikleo’s foot taps a rhythm on the floor. “I’m not criticizing their main argument. The book just isn’t as infallible as you made it out to be.” He plucks the book out of Sorey’s hands and continues, “You need to read this one. It’s a follow-up to the one we liked last year and I think the author does an even better job this time around.”

The sound of water running seeps into the room but is otherwise ignored. Sorey reaches for the book but Mikleo moves it out of his reach. Mikleo grins and says, “I’m almost finished with it. You can have it once I’m done.”

Sorey reaches for it once again but Mikleo moves away, his back hitting the headboard. Sorey smiles sweetly, immediately attracting suspicion from Mikleo. His hands reach out, this time aiming for Mikleo’s stomach. Sorey says, “My poor, poor Mikleo. You have three seconds to relinquish the book.” He starts his countdown (with Mikleo inching further away all the while), but before he can reach zero, the door opens. Mikleo’s eyes widen almost comically as Sorey scrambles to resume a normal position. He looks up to see Rose standing in the doorway.

“Who were you talking to?”

Sorey opens his mouth to speak, to brush it off like he has done so many times before. The words are on the tip of his tongue but from the corner of his eye, Sorey sees Mikleo draw his knees up to his chest, the book lying forgotten beside him. In that moment, he decides to throw caution to the wind and hopes that for just this one time, things will be _different_.

“I was talking to my friend.”

From beside him, Mikleo lifts his head in surprise. Rose’s eyes pass over Sorey and his bed, and she says, “I don’t see a phone…”

It would be so easy to change the subject, Sorey thinks. But he pushes himself to continue. “He’s here. Right beside me.”

Rose’s look of confusion passes and is replaced by a subdued amusement. Sorey’s heart skips a beat—could she see him? His questions cease when, a moment later, Rose laughs and says, “Y-you’re trying to trick me, right? It isn’t quite Halloween yet, Sorey.” There is a note of nervousness in her voice, and Sorey realizes with a pang that she is _scared_.

Sorey is about to speak, to tell her that _No, this isn’t a prank, what do you mean, he’s sitting here just like I am_ —but a squeeze of his arm shuts his mouth. Mikleo’s voice, gentle and firm, rings in his ears. “Don’t. She won’t be able to—she _can’t._ So. Don’t push her.”

Sorey closes his eyes and opens them again when Rose calls his name. His scratches the back of his head and forces a smile. “You’re right, sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d be so frightened.”

He squeezes Mikleo’s hand. He wonders if Mikleo is as disappointed, frustrated, sad as he is, that this time was the same as all the others.

-

The following years pass one after another.  High school ends without fanfare. Sorey and Alisha, predictably, pass with flying colors. Rose scores just enough to be guaranteed entry to her college of choice, prompting Sorey and Alisha to throw a party for her on the last day of class. It ended with a sleepover and teary farewells the next morning.

Sorey moved out the day after the party to a large city located a couple of hours away. A college there is internationally known for its archaeology program, and Sorey had earned a scholarship for it. He said goodbye to his grandpa and yes, he would call every week and no, he would not get into any trouble.

It was strange living under his own roof. While he wasn’t alone, he wasn’t used to having so much responsibility and having to care for everything from the maintenance of his tiny apartment to paying the bills. With full-time classes and a part-time job, Sorey looked forward to coming home and talking to Mikleo over dinner about this book or that tv show.

The end of his first year soon approaches with exams looming on the horizon. He turned in his last paper earlier today. He breathes a sigh of relief, the night air providing a comfortable chill. The last month was almost non-stop school and work, and he is happy to finally have some time to himself.

Sorey opens the door to his apartment and toes off his shoes, closing the door behind him. He tries to move quietly—it is late enough that Mikleo might be asleep.  He rounds the corner and smiles when he sees him sitting on the couch. The lights are dim and the box television (they didn’t see the point in buying a new one) is blaring some cartoon.

Sorey sits down beside Mikleo and gestures to the tv. “So, what’s Steven up to now?” Sorey frowns when he sees Mikleo’s face, an almost ashen tone that immediately puts him on edge. He calls Mikleo’s name and when he doesn’t respond, Sorey puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. Mikleo almost jumps and his head whips around to look at him. Sorey tries to calm him, running a hand up and down Mikleo’s arm. “Mikleo, what’s wrong?”

“They called a half hour ago. I… I didn’t pick up, but…” Mikleo looks away and his eyes rest on the answering machine beside the sofa.

Dread pools in Sorey’s stomach and as he plays the message, he sits back. After it finishes, he feels like the world has fallen out from under him—the same way he felt when Rose and Alisha brought him on a roller coaster years ago. He stands up and feels the urge to do _something_ that doesn’t require sitting still. He goes to the hallway and takes his jacket out of the closet, with Mikleo hot on his heels.

“Where are you going? You can’t—“

“We have to go! If we leave now we can make the next bus—“

“Sorey.” Mikleo grabs his arm but he tries to twist out of Mikleo’s grip. He swings his other arm back but he soon finds it in a similar position. Mikleo says his name again, more forcefully this time. “Sorey! It’s too late, it’s almost _midnight_. We have to wait until tomorrow. Please, we can leave as soon as it’s light out.”

Sorey’s struggling remains fruitless as Mikleo doesn’t budge. The weight of the situation seems to hit him then, helplessness digging into him and dragging him down. Sobs wrack his body and he falls to the ground, pulling Mikleo with him. In between the tears, he says, “I-I just talked to him three days ago and he seemed fine. I wasn’t even there for him, this whole year I didn’t even go to see him once.” The rest of his words are drowned out by his sobs, and a steady throbbing begins at his pulse. Mikleo’s arms around him provide a comforting warmth, his hand carding his hair soothing the ache in his head.  He tries to push away to avoid soaking Mikleo’s shirt but Mikleo refuses to let go, his own tears dampening the top of Sorey’s head.

A few minutes later, Mikleo guides him to the couch and takes a blanket from the closet, wrapping it around the both of them. He brings Sorey’s head to his chest once more and brings him close, his words of comfort light in Sorey’s ears.

They stay like that until morning.

-

He notices it— _really_ notices it—in his early thirties.

On his first off day from work in a long while, Sorey decides to clean out the apartment. Of course, he has enlisted Mikleo’s help.

“Toss or keep?” Mikleo holds out an old camera that has seen better days. Sorey glances at it and says, “Throw it away.”

He looks around to see if there is any more junk that needs sorting when a blue cardboard box in the corner catches his eye. He draws closer and sees the word “Photos” scrawled across the top in black ink. That’s strange. Sorey supposes he never got around to unpacking the contents of the box.

The box opens to reveal a few photo albums. As he begins flipping through one, Mikleo comes over and kneels down, gazing curiously into the box. “Huh. How long has this been here?”

Sorey looks through the album. The pages are all filled, mostly with photos of him along with Rose and Alisha. He runs a hand over one and smiles—this one had been taken the night before he left his hometown. At the sides are him and Alisha, out cold from the late hour and general tiredness. In the center is Rose, lying down between them and making a silly face. His heart seizes as he sees several pages filled with pictures of him and his grandpa. He quickly flips through them.

“… Sorey. What on earth is this.” Sorey looks at the photo Mikleo is holding in front of him and bursts out laughing. Sorey is in the center of the frame, clad in a tunic and white pants, and standing beside a young woman in a pink dress. The background is filled with props of trees.

“I was in Alisha’s play, remember? She told me I was perfect for the part of the prince.” Sorey lets out another laugh as Mikleo blanches. He takes a closer look at the photo, and it strikes him just how _young_ he looks, in this frozen moment in time. He never really thinks about how much he’s changed, but the differences are all too obvious in this photograph of him. The boy grinning back at him is smaller in every way—his limbs are more lithe, his face less angular and more full.

“What is it?” Mikleo takes back the album and squints at the photo, as if to see what Sorey was looking so intently at.

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just that it’s been so long since this was taken. I look like a different person.”

Mikleo cocks his head and says, “Really? I don’t think you’ve changed that much.”

Sorey scoots closer and holds his hand out, as if for a high five. He gestures Mikleo to do the same. He ignores the confusion clouding Mikleo’s face and presses their hands together.

Next to Mikleo’s narrow wrist and slender hand, Sorey’s hand seems even thicker, bigger and rougher. Mikleo’s skin is smooth and fair—the same as it had been when they were younger.

It is almost as if—

Sorey’s breath stutters and his eyes narrow. He takes Mikleo’s hand in both of his and examines it, turning it over and running a finger over the lines on the palm. Mikleo starts fidgeting, is about to say something when Sorey speaks.

“You’re not aging.”

Mikleo lets out a breath he’s been holding, says, “I know.”

Sorey tries to piece it together and find answers for his questions. When he speaks, it is directed at himself as much as it is Mikleo. “But—that doesn’t make sense. We grew up together. We were children when we met. Why now?”

Mikleo doesn’t attempt to draw his hand back and Sorey doesn’t let go. He closes his eyes in thought and Sorey can see the gears turning in his head, as if working out a difficult puzzle. He says slowly, “I don’t know.  I started noticing it when you were still in school. I remember standing in front of the mirror and wondering why everyone else was changing, why you were growing up… and I wasn’t.” He opens his eyes to reveal the telltale shine of unshed tears. Sorey moves closer on instinct, so that their sides are flush against each other, their hands still entwined. Mikleo continues, “It didn’t seem like much at the time. I told myself I was going to catch up, but now even you’ve noticed.”

Sorey tries to process it all, tries to understand why this is happening. Before he can help it, the implications of Mikleo’s words arrive unbidden in his imagination. If he is aging normally but Mikleo hasn’t for a while, then…

He mentally shakes his head to empty his thoughts. If it were to come to that, they would face it head-on. For now, he says, “Do you think there’s anything we can do? Maybe some kind of medicine… Or maybe something to make me live longer.”

Mikleo gives a breathless laugh and says, “I’m pretty sure the fountain of youth is a myth, Sorey. But that’s a new one, I don’t know if anybody’s ever tried to age faster on purpose. But we can try… sooner rather than later.” Mikleo’s hand clenches during his last few words. Sorey stretches out Mikleo’s hand and turns it over, running his thumb over it like he had done earlier. When he speaks, he is sure Mikleo can feel his heartbeat, anxious and fast in his chest.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

A beat passes before Mikleo looks up at him and smiles, his eyes dry. “Yeah.”

For once in his life, Sorey isn’t sure if Mikleo believes him.

-

“—And then it went _boom_! I seriously thought I was done for.”

Rose’s hands move animatedly as she reaches the end of her story. Beside her, Alisha gasps and covers her mouth. “Were you hurt?”

“Nah, I did walk away with this though. It hurt a shit ton.” Rose rolls up her sleeve as Alisha looks on nervously. A few seconds pass and Alisha squints. “Where is it?” Rose points to a miniscule cut and Alisha hits her lightly, prompting laughter from both Rose and Sorey.

The sound of the television provides a low undercurrent for their voices. From his position at the dining room table, Sorey can see the back of Mikleo’s head resting on the couch.

Alisha sips at her drink and takes a look at her watch. Her eyes widen and she rushes to set the glass back down. “Rose, it’s already eleven! Our train leaves in an hour.” She turns to Sorey and beams. “It was so nice to see you, Sorey. We’ll try to come back again soon.”

They hurry to gather their belongings. After a frantic search for Rose’s scarf (found on the floor of the coat closet, seemingly fallen off its hanger), Sorey sees them off at the doorway.

Rose takes her time putting on her jacket, and she is still working on her buttons when Alisha finishes getting ready. Rose tells her, “I’ll meet you downstairs. I’ll be there in a sec.” Alisha doesn’t question her, but instead hugs Sorey, tells him to call her, and heads out. Rose waits until Alisha reaches the stairwell before she speaks again.

“Are you doing alright? I—uh, I’m just kind of worried…” She bites her lip and shifts her weight. Sorey perks up—he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Rose mull over her words.

“I saw you a couple years ago, you know, during the thing at Alisha’s house? I was walking to the living room when I overheard your voice in the study. I peeked inside but there was no one else there.” She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. Sorey can feel a presence at his back and he knows Mikleo is standing behind him. “You were reading something, and you were laughing, and talking to someone that—I don’t know. Someone that…” Her gaze lowers for a moment. “I didn’t say anything because you seemed happy. I mean, you’re happy with us too… but this was different.”

Sorey’s hand tightens on the door. Rose continues: “I don’t know what’s going on with you, if anything. And you’re still the same old do-gooder Sorey, so I guess I shouldn’t be too worried.” She smiles, relieved to have gotten everything off her chest.

Sorey returns the smile and says, “I’m fine, better than I’ve ever been.” He wonders if he’s become a better liar over the years. “You should be getting back to Alisha. I don’t think you’d get a refund on those tickets.”

Rose chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Just let us know if you need something. You know you can tell us anything.” She straightens up and prepares to leave when her eyes move past Sorey and fix on a point behind him. She opens her mouth to speak and her eyes narrow, still focused on that spot near Sorey. Sorey feels Mikleo tense behind him and suddenly he can’t breathe, his limbs still.

The ringing of her phone cuts through the air and the moment is lost. The sting of disappointment sears through Sorey as she says, “Alisha’s getting impatient.” He watches her retreating back as she heads down the stairs and out of sight.

-

It starts happening one afternoon at his desk—a small pinprick in his head making work difficult to complete. The pain lasts for a couple hours before vanishing.

It returns a week later in the form of a vicious pounding within his skull, enough to make Sorey bedridden. It is one of the few times he has really fallen ill and the first to incapacitate him. Mikleo fusses over him, sitting by his bedside and periodically bringing water and food.

All the lights in the bedroom remain off except the small lamp on the table, its faint gleam comfortable rather than murderously painful. The first few days pass in a blur of medication and hazy sleep.

The first time he wakes up with a minimal amount of drowsiness clouding his system, he is coated in a light sheen of sweat with a diminished headache and shivers coursing through his body. He can see a strip of light underneath the door. The distant hum of the television provides pleasant white noise.

Almost as if on cue, Mikleo opens the door almost inaudibly and places a glass of water on the nightstand. He sits on the folding chair and towels off the sweat on Sorey’s face. When Mikleo speaks, his tone is quiet enough to be comforting. “Are you feeling better?”

Sorey shudders at the warm dampness of the towel. He says, “Kind of. You don’t need to stay here—I’m sure you’re dying for some fresh air.”

Mikleo places his hand on Sorey’s forehead and replies, “I’m not here _all_ day. And I’d rather read than go out.” He nods as if pleased with his findings, and then continues. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I’m tired more than anything.” Sorey yawns as Mikleo gives him a couple of pills.

“Take these.” Before Sorey can say anything, he says, “No arguments. Save your energy for later.”

Sorey obediently gulps them down along with some water. He watches Mikleo retrieve a book from the shelf beside the desk and return to his seat.  Mikleo opens it and begins reading, his eyes moving back and forth across the pages. The beginnings of sleep wrap around Sorey, who says, “Please read for me? It’ll be like we’re kids again.”

Mikleo looks at him above the book. He sighs and places it down on his lap. “Only if you go to sleep soon.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he starts reading aloud.

Sorey listens. His voice reaches him like a song, the lilts and curls in the words and sentences a lullaby. In the dim light, his pale skin seems to glow.

Sleep soon claims Sorey, urgent and insistent.

He wakes up to pitch black. The lights are turned off and the only sounds are his own breathing and Mikleo’s. His thoughts and movements are sluggish and he is barely conscious, exhaustion weighing him down.  Across from him on the bed is Mikleo, facing him. His eyes are closed and his body is rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. In his delirium, Sorey reaches a hand out to push Mikleo’s hair away, only for him to pass through and meet air.

Sorey’s eyelids get heavier and he again succumbs to sleep. The last thing he sees is the bright silver of Mikleo’s hair, vivid even in the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> ONLY ONE MORE MONTH!


End file.
